HELPING HAND.

HELPING HAND.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: when aemond confides in you that he’s never laid with a woman, you make sure to change that.

content warnings: 18+, canon typical incest, unprotected p in v, curse words, loss of virginity, handjob, cockwarming, praise, inexperienced!aemond, a bit of fluff. block the tag “★. dark themes!” if you don’t want to see my dark content.

note: well, hello ! here’s another one of the works i posted on my old blog and just recently found. i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

BEFORE YOU KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING, aemond’s lips are on yours. you whimper, surprised but quite pleased, because you’d be lying if you say you haven’t thought about kissing him in many different scenarios.

his lips are soft and sweet, but you can tell he is insecure and that is why his movements are sloppy, he keeps his hands away from your body not knowing where to place them; but you need his touch, his warmth, and so you guide his hands to rest on your waist.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the first girl he’s ever kissed.

without breaking the kiss, you move from your spot on the bed to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his body.

“your lips are soft.” you whisper against his swollen lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“yours taste like cherry.” his voice comes out raspy, eyes locked on yours. “i like it.”

yoi cup his cheeks and kiss him again. this time you’re hungry for him, smashing your lips against his own. and he lets you know he likes it holding you tighter against his body as your fingers travel down his head and tug at his hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat you start to suck, intending on marking him right below the collar of his button down.

he gasps, pants tightening. your fingers work fast unbuttoning his shirt, his smooth and pale skin screaming for your touch. you bite down on his neck and he groans, pulling you away.

aemond pupil is dilated, lips parted and red. you shudder at the view, so wrecked just by an intense make-out session. but you want more.

you take your top off, your bra following shortly after, and nod at him to do the same; he’s quick to obey. it’s like he goes into a trance the moment he sees your chest, and you think you can cum just by the sight of him.

“you can touch me.” he makes eye contact for a few seconds, and then lowers his gaze, swallowing. you know he wants you but he’s too nervous to do things on his own, so you help him by guiding both of his hands to your breasts. they’re cold and the friction they create makes you close your eyes and arch your back, palms rubbing against your nipples and hard cock pressing against the fabric of your undergarments.

once you feel he has gained confidence, your hands move slowly over his chest, caressing him softly as you start to kiss his neck. you drag your nails down until they’re at the waistline of his pants and, not wasting any time, you unbuckle his belt.

his jaw drops, taking a sharp breath as he lifts his hips up so you can remove his belt and lower his pants. and when your hand comes in contact with soft flesh, the sound he makes soaks your panties.

aemond squeezes your breasts, making you whine. “easy, pretty boy.”

you giggle, sucking on his bottom lip as you pump his cock. he’s panting, eyes rolled back and desperate. his hands are everywhere on your body, coming to a halt when he lifts your skirt, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass.

aemond whines, thrusting into your hand. “are you close, love?” you ask into his ear, increasing the pace of your hand, while your other hand lifts his chin up. his face is flushed and he’s trying really hard to not let himself go. “i got you, aemond.”

and that’s all he needs to cum in your hand, grasping your waist so hard you know his hands will leave bruises. he groans loudly, and you immediately cover his mouth.

you look at your hand and then at him, who’s resting his head against the headboard with his eyes closed, and you clean it on his chest making a mess between cum and sweat.

“fuck.” aemond murmurs, opening his eyes.

“we’re not finished.” you leave a quick kiss on lips before lifting your hips and moving your panties to the side. “you can take it. right, pretty boy?” he hums, eyes fixed on what he can see of your cunt. “i need you to look me in the eyes and say it.”

aemond gulps and his big violet eye looks at you pleading, the head of his cock brushing against your cunt. “i can take it. please.”

you grab hold of his shoulders, and sink down. slowly. the look on aemond’s face, contorted in pleasure, and the sounds coming out of your mouth creating an intense and seductive atmosphere. he holds you tight against his chest and groans, closing his eye tightly.

“you’re so big.” you whisper, his hands returning to your ass, helping you slide down further.

aemond sucks in a ragged breath as you lift your hips up again, just to sink down completely onto his cock. you move slowly at first, teasing him, wanting to hear him beg, but he sees right through you and squeezes your flesh as he starts thrusting into you. you moan, ducking your face into his neck, trying to muffle those sounds.

“oh my gods, please.” you don’t know what you’re asking for, but is like a praise falling from your lips over and over and over again.

your walls tighten around him and aemond moans so loud you fear someone would hear you, and then you’ll be in big trouble. your hand covers his mouth while you look for something, anything, and your eyes fall on a black leather belt by your side. without saying a word you hold it closer to his lips and aemond opens his mouth not giving it a second thought, blindly trusting you.

“such a good boy.” you say, taking control by lifting yourself up on your knees, fucking him rough. you reach between your bodies to rub circles into that sensitive bud that makes you bite your lips so hard you taste your own blood. “i know you’re close. cum with me.”

you keep grinding on him, tits bouncing with every movement, and it doesn’t take much more before aemond is cumming inside of you, groaning onto his belt, eye closed and a blissful face that sends you over the edge.

you hold your breath, head falling backwards and tights clenching around him. you try to steady your breathing as you come down, legs shaking.

neither of you speaks, all you can hear are your rapid breaths, and when you meet his gaze, he kisses your neck, inhaling your scent. his cock softens but he doesn’t move, and you don’t want to move either, so you stay there; your hands stroking his silver locks. you pull him back to look at him, and you notice that his eye is glazed over and there’s sweat covering his lovely, flushed face. a part of you can’t believe what just happened, but the other part couldn’t be happier. and satisfied.

“can we stay like this for a little while?” aemond asks with a raspy voice and swollen lips, a smile forming on his face. you nod and he buries his face into your neck, arms around your waist while yours are around his neck, rubbing his back.

and when aemond starts to hum a little tune, you know you’re exactly where you want to be.

No Right Time — Yuuji Itadori

This is pure self indulgent fluff. I literally dropped everything to write it on my phone.

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen 

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori + Reader 

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1,981

Summary: In which you learn that you have nothing to worry about, and that some accidents can be happy.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Nobara spat out her drink, peppering the wood grain of the table in wine. She coughed roundly for a few seconds, and you raised a hand to pat her back, but she put up her own palm to stop you, instead taking another long drink of her wine.

“What— what makes you think—“

“Nausea,” you said, “every morning like clockwork. Mood swings. And— my period is late, by two weeks.”

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Hi! Could you possibly do something soft with one of the green boys? Thank you so so much <3

I See You.

(Slightly 18+)

Pairing: Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader;

Warnings: some NSFW innuendos and angst - other than that, this is pure comfort and fluff!

Word Count: 4k+

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the request, Nonny! I hope you enjoy this little drabble, and forgive me for taking so long to get around it :") 🤍

Aemond Targaryen hated his birthdays - to him, they were a poor excuse for his mother to introduce him to possible matches. The banquets were loud and dramatic, and he'd much rather spend his time training or reading a book.

Aemond Targaryen hated his birthdays - they focused too much on him, and he could see: he could see how everyone at Court turned their eyes away from him.

And yet you kept on looking.

The dizzying nature of the last waltz of the night left everyone in the Great Hall panting. Roaring applauses erupted from the women seated, and even Aegon whistled lowly in encouragement, as his purple eyes dilated and trailed over the wanton skirts of the highborn ladies.

“Well done, brother,” He congratulated Aemond though a slurred hic, “Even when the day is all about you, you still somehow manage not to dance a single time!”

A wolfish grin spreads across his droopy face, pulling his reddened cheeks higher.

“It’s quite a shame, really.” He hums in reserved admission, reveling in the second son’s silence, “She looked really pretty tonight, too.”

Aemond’s lips part with a growl – a quiet warning sent directly to his brother; to cease his antics and leave him alone.

Still, his eye trailed over her frail form for the thousandth time that night. The shadows of the flickering lights licked at his pale features, and the One-Eyed Prince scowled at how she spun so effortlessly in the arms of so many men that night. How he, ever the fool, stood hammered in his seat during such an ospacious occasion.

A knot tightened in his throat when he heard his strong niece giggle at the flat joke a common Lord had landed - her lack of propriety, her open enjoyment of his company, and the flowy dress she was wearing, were enough to set his heart aflame – and his blood run hot.

Even his brother was eyeing him weirdly, for he had contorted in such a way, that his body was leaning forward, seemingly ready to pounce on the Tully Lord and tear him away. His lilac orb had a predatory glint in it, one that spoke volumes about his wordless adoration for the girl before him.

Feeling his swift undoing, the Targaryen Prince excused himself from the table, with one elegant and hasty movement, not daring to spare the girl another glance. His jaw was tightly set, his long fingers clasped behind his back, digging away at the flesh of his calloused palm. All of his blood had run elsewhere, and a stinging pain started hitting him from beneath his eyepatch.

“Qrimbrōzagon,” He hissed lowly in his mother tongue, “Fu-uck…”

“It’s not really gentlemanly to curse like that, you know…” A kind, albeit teasing voice, echoed through the dark hallway.

Aemond almost froze on the spot. Out of all the times to be left alone with her, this had to be one of the worst. A cold shiver ran down the Prince’s spine; not only was he irritated at the stunts she’d pulled, but he had no good words left for anyone, not when his eye hurt so badly.

The man quickly composed himself, however, and shut his remaining eye firmly, before turning on his heel to greet the smiling girl.

“It’s not particularly lady-like to walk around the Keep unchaperoned, dear niece.” Aemond bit back, his remark much harsher than he intended, due to his inpending pain. “A banquet is in its midst. There are plenty of drunk men, searching for a new folly.”

“Then I should be very lucky to have bumped into you, wouldn’t you agree?” The girl suggested with a slight quirk of her head. She licked her lips tentatively, preparing to inquire after him – but sensing his dissatisfaction and lack of amusement at her usual jests, the Velaryon’s words died upon her lips, and she pursed them tightly together, until her shoulders jolted in place.

“Is… Is the scar causing you trouble again?” She asked meekly, not daring to raise her voice too much. “Is that why you left so suddenly…?”

“My scar is fine,” Aemond replied stiffly, trying to put an end to her relentless worries. “I’ve no need for your sympathy – and if you came here to laugh at my expense, you’ll be left very disappointed.”

“Laugh at you…?” The confusion was evident in her voice, and a small pang of hurt reflected in her big, brown eyes. Her brows furrowed deeply, creating two creases that ran in between them. “You know I would never laugh at you. And I would certainly never laugh at the expense of your eye.”

Aemond’s chest was heaving more sporadically by the second. It was taking everything within him not to fall to his knees and grip his face; not to shout at her to leave him and his heart alone.

“As I previously said, I’m fine.” He growled from under a stained breath, “If that would be all, niece…” He sucked in an aching gasp, one that he prayed to the Seven the young Princess hadn’t heard, and resumed his walk once again. “You had better return to your partner and enjoy his smiles. For you are wasting your time with me.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Aemond, I’d say you just insulted me in the acutest way.” She voiced out offendedly, as her hands grabbed onto her long, black skirts.

The younger Princess sprinted right after him, huffing and puffing at his cutting words. She blocked his pathway with her lythe and nimble body, and her cheeks were reddened, from both the wine and worry alike.

While she brushed away a rebel strand from out her face, the girl crossed her hands over her chest, and awaited patiently.

“That will simply not do,” She uttered with a shaking head, “I must demand satisfaction.”

Aemond came to clench his jaw painfully. His eye was boring into her alluring features; his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, swallowing thickly once every two seconds.

“Why did you push me away all night?” She demanded with a hand above his chest. “How can you insinuate I don’t care about you, when it was you who refused to talk to me?”

Her expression turned solemn, almost mourning, and the girl glanced about at her smaller feet. “What happened? Is it related to something that I did?”

Her head shot up suddenly. Her eyes widened in earnest, “If I said something unseemly, or offended you in any way, I’m sorry.” Her voice was carrying a shiver of honesty, “You know you’re my best friend, Aemond. I… I would never dare hurt you.”

“And yet on that night, you rallied with them.”

Her face fell at his cruel remark. For a while, quietness ruled over them.

Seven years separated them from that fated night in Driftmark. And yet for Aemond, it was still a delicate subject.

Her dainty features twisted into a painful sulk, and the younger girl nibbled on her lower lip, before she spoke with a broken tone. “You know this isn’t true.”

She raised her head at him, and glanced at the prince with a clouded expression. Her body looked even smaller now, recoiled into itself, and, as the Princess let out a forlong sigh, she made enough space in the tight corridor for him to pass her.

“I twisted Luke’s dagger away as fast as I could. I slashed my arm for you.”

Aemond fought her stare with a look of pure betrayal, one that the Velaryon hadn’t seen since that cursed night in Blackwater's Bay. “When you saw us all bloody, you immediately went to side with them.”

“You held a rock above Jace’s head…!” She touched her neck while speaking. “I heard a commotion and got out of bed – how could I have known the full of it, then? I only saw my brothers beaten to a pulp and you above them. And even then, I tried to help you – calm down the others!”

Her eyes were glossy with the threat of tears, but she blinked them away quickly, as she gently shook her head.

Aemond only scoffed at her explanation, and brought his right hand to a fist.

The pain was eating away at him, and there was no more holding back.

“You shouldn’t have doubted me, even for a moment.”

“They’re my brothers…!”

“And you were supposed to be mine! My friend.” Aemond swallowed thickly, “You were supposed to believe me.”

Though neither had seemed to notice, their endless bickering had brought their bodies awfully close. The girl’s heart was beating out of her chest, hammering against Aemond’s ribcage. His arms had caged her vehemently against the cold wall, and the One-Eyed Prince nearly collapsed once a sharp sting pulsed through his empty socket.

“My eye.” He uttered darkly, whilst holding her gently with his heated hand, “I thought it once to be a fair exchange for the dragon I’d gotten. But I was a foolish boy who didn’t know that I’d carry its loss with me my whole entire life.”

She was looking at him, her eyes never once faltering, with a guilty expression upon her face. “I am so sorry you had to go through this. I am so… so sorry.” A silent tear rolled off her cheek, hitting the flamboyant details of her dress, and the girl sank her teeth on her wobbly lower lip. “I would give anything in the world, if only I could take your place. I'd have traded my eye for yours in a heartbeat.”

His breath fell heavily over her lips. Aemond let out a breathless laugh, and quietly averted his gaze. Remorse ate away at him, and the young man brought a hand to his face, in order to rub his temples.

His breathing came in slow, labored pants. His body was aching, but the closeness she provided, along with the love he felt for her, grounded the Targaryen Prince, if only momentarily.

“I would have died a thousand deaths, before I’d let you take that fall for me.” His expression hardened, and he readied himself for what he was about to say. “They say I’m a crippled freak.” Aemond spat out his own insult, and he lowered his head, seemingly ashamed of it. “We can both pretend that it's not true, but no lady at Court can look at me.”

'I look at you. I see you, and you are not a freak.' The Princess desperately wanted to say.

Instead, she settled on bringing her hand out to grab his painful fist, and rub soothing circles into his white knuckles.

“That’s not true, Aemond,” She tutted against him, feeling her face fall with each of his words.

The Crown Prince tensed and shook his head harshly. She wouldn’t understand.

“Look at it.”He urged her with a desperate abandon, still gripping her gently by the elbow, not letting her escape his presence. His mind was swirling with a myriad of thoughts, each wildly uncomfortable and scared of rejection. Still, he couldn’t have her away from his grasp.

The farce had gone too far – and he needed her. He needed her so adherently.

“Look at me, and tell me what you see.” Despite his inner turmoil, Aemond’s voice was calm and composed, and he closed his right eye, as if he had already accepted the answer she was going to grace him with: an answer he’d heard so many times while in the shadows of the Red Keep, listening in to the highborn ladies’ conversations.

A salacious truth, though his spying was never intentional.

His request left the Princess confused – even so, she decided to answer it honestly. She ran her eyes over his face and body, drinking in his every detail. Before beginning, she darted her tongue out to wet her chapped lips, and quietly drew in a comforting breath.

“I see a pale man, with long, silver hair, and a beautiful lilac eye. I see a man who trains with the sword every single day - a man who has perfected the deadly craft. I see a man who always has something smart to say, about a book he read or a previous study he went through. I see a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. I see you, Aemond.”

As she drew the last of her conclusion, his niece made sure to look him straight in the eye, with the calmest of smiles tugging away at the ends of her lips.

Although her answer had taken him by surprise, Aemond didn’t loosen his hold on her. Posessively, he gripped her waist in a secure rapture, and knitted his brows in grave annoyance.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, not when her eyes focused on him, as if he were the only thing that mattered.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, when, instead of trying to wiggle herself away, the girl placed a soothing palm atop his twitching hand, pressing it down gently.

He cupped her cheek with his resting hand, and aligned her jaw to face him. His hawk-like eye glimmered dangerously, protruding to almost black.

“That’s all? Look harder.” He barked at her through gritted teeth. The poise of his composure was now cracking at the seams. “Tell me again what you see.”

The breath in her throat hitched slightly, but the brown-haired girl followed suit with honesty.

“I see…” A short pause ensued, during which the Velaryon had to purse her lips together, unnerved by what she was about to say, “I see a handsome man, with a thirst to prove himself. I see a man who pushes himself further every single day, who hasn’t known a break in his whole life. … I look up, and see a man who is dutiful and loving toward his family. I see a man who covers his eye with an eyepatch.”

Whilst she was busy breaking his resolve, she raised her hand slowly to his face, and bit her lip in anticipation, stopping at the brown leather of the piece of cloth – silently asking for permission to remove it.

“I see a man with a scar on his left cheek… though that doesn’t make him less alluring. I see a man who had to work twice as hard as everyone else to make up for it all, a man too proud to be handed down anything.”

To say that Aemond was taken aback by her touch was an understatement. His chest heaved with exhaustion, and his socket throbbed significantly, but his face remained close to hers. Her words confused him, but they left him craving more.

He allowed her to reach for his eyepatch, and graze her finger over the hard leather – but his hand rested atop hers, to keep it from moving any further.

“That’s all the answer you’re going to give?” He breathlessly inquired, frustration evident in his tone. His hands felt still and tense, and the girl only nodded in reply.

He was silent for nearly a minute. The Targaryen weighed his options carefully, mulling over his actions. Her delicate fingers were driving him wild, leaving goosebumps on his panging skin.

“Then perhaps I should help you.” He hushed to her, tangling a hand in her slick, brown hair.

His fingers made rapid work on the buckle securing his eyepatch, and the Crown Prince sucked in a breath, as the coldness of the air hit his throbbing blinder.

The girl’s lips parted in sorrow and shock.

There Aemond stood, a shaky hand still grazing the nape of her neck, and a tight expression on his face. Stiffly, he awaited her horrified reaction. “What else is it that you see now, my niece?”

Her inner turmoil disappeared with the submission of his question. “I see a man who is so brave and strong, despite all that happened to him. I see someone so beautiful – inside and out.”

Her hand caressed his deep, red scar and, without much further thinking, she leaned in to plant a small, tentative kiss over the wounded flesh.

Her feathered touch drove the man wild. He swallowed down a desperate moan, and fought with every fraction of his being, that screamed and urged him to take her against the cold, stone wall.

His mind was in shambles.

“That’s all I see, My Prince. That’s all that truly matters.”

Patiently, she waited for his answer, while taking his right hand in hers and rubbing his white knuckles with a devotion untoward.

Her kiss was unexpected. What was even more so, was the earnest nature of her speech and her eyes, which held no malice or ill intent towards him.

Instead, they were filled with fondness and sympathy, and Aemond would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it.

He could feel his lower lip quivering as she rubbed her thumb over his busted knuckles. His body was practically shaking.

“It will never be all that matters.” He laid in thickly, trying his damnest to hold on to his usual, impassive mask.

But that facade was slipping, and even more so with her kind touch and the heat her lips had left on him.

Her face dropped at the finality of his words. The girl nibbled on her lower lip, and slouched her shoulders forward. She minced her way closer to him, and squeezed down on his right hand, forehead bumping into his chest.

“It’s all that matters to me. And to your mom, and to your brothers and sister. To anyone that shared a word with you, or has half a brain to think by themselves.” She whispered to him, while slowly snaking her arms around his waist.

For a moment, her breath caught in her throat, and she prayed silently that Aemond hadn’t thought the last of her movements brash and shameless.

She knew how hard touching came to him – in their ten years of rapid friendship, they had perhaps hugged only thrice –, but she dearly hoped their closeness would bring him the closure he needs. “Who gives a shit about anyone else?” Her voice echoed passionately.

Aemond’s lips parted with a weary sigh. His heart was beating out of his chest, and, for the first time in many years, he felt like the boy he once was. The boy he tried so hard to kill – to bury away and get rid of, for the sake of becoming a reliable pillar to his family.

But her warmth – her touch and her kindred words, made him weak at the knees.

A strained smile graced his lips, a quick quirk of his mouth, that was hidden away by his luscious strands of silver hair. The Prince inhaled her scent deeply, before diving his head in the crook of her neck and holding her – just holding her –, until his erratic breathing came to a rest.

The girl let out a relieved sigh, and engulfed him in a proper hug, swaying him from side to side. She hummed quietly in the darkness of the Red Keep, and ran her fingers through his white locks of hair, massaging the scalp gently.

Aemond’s heart jumped in his throat, and Viserys’ second son strained himself to part his face from the heat of her neck.

Their faces remained inches away, and the Princess sallied her mouth forth to kiss over his scarred flesh once again.

Her pecks were meek and innocent, a silent display of acceptance and affection that she’d learned herself when she was but a child.

She remembered how her mother used to kiss over her scraped knees and hands when she was younger, and how that never failed to make her feel better.

Aemond’s stare never once left her face. He gazed at her through a hooded eye, and, despite the pain that only aggravated with the pressure of her rosy lips upon his face, the Prince relaxed his whole body, still gripping her hand in his.

“Does it hurt you when I kiss you there…?” The girl asked quickly, menging their breaths with a quiet pant, “Please tell me if you’d rather me cease with this… I do not wish to cause you pain.”

Aemond’s body came forward still, and the man pressed the girl further into the wall. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from her huffing face. His mouth was slouched open, and his eye was boring into her face, her lips.

Truly, he did not expect her to react in such a way. She wasn’t repulsed, nor scared of his face. She did not look away from him, and she even kissed over his marred scar. She kissed him, like it was nothing out of the ordinary, as if it was the most natural thing.

She kissed him, with so much kindness, that it left him shaking, shuddering in pained pleasure.

“Yes…” he hissed through the wanton choke of a moan. “It hurts. It hurts so, so good.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and his niece tried to pull away. Her eyes were bearing him guiltily, and she bit down on her bottom lip in exasperation. “You should have told me…! I’m so sorry –” She began to say, but was interrupted by Aemond’s disapproving groan.

He found himself trembling, on the verge of frenzy. Her wet lips had been so warm, and they had felt so good, that the man couldn’t think of anything but her. The absence of her lips pressed against his skin was torture.

“No…” He muttered softly, trying to think beyond how much he needed her in his arms and how perfectly they fit together, “Don’t you dare stop kissing me.” He asserted with a small whimper, his voice thick with pain. “Never stop kissing me. Don’t you ever stop.”

“Okay, okay…” She murmured against him, pressing her lips on his cheek again, gracing him with downy and peppered pecks.

“Ivestragon issa konīr iksos daorun pirta rūsīr issa.” He let out pleadingly, swaying their hugging bodies from side to side.

“Ao issi vok.” She replied immediately, and so, so close to his mouth. “Aem, ao issi vok. Nyke jaelagon ao could ūndegon aōla rȳ issa laesi.”

He let out a choked-out sob, and lowered his head atop hers once again. His hands touched her tenderly, greedily, all over the place. His body felt like it was on fire.

They say that Targaryens are accustomed to the damaging flames, that they revel in and enjoy the heat.

Even so, she felt like wildfire – seeping in his every pore.

“Ao issi vok.” The Princess repeated again, nodding for good measure. “And if you don’t believe me, take me, for example. When you look at me, what do you see?”

A rare smile spread across his lips. His eye bored into hers with so much love and adoration, that the younger girl nearly felt her knees give out.

His gentle hand caressed her lips, and Aemond angled her jaw to face him upwards. A quiet request was made, which the girl gleefully answered.

Silken lips pressed against each other, moving so perfectly together, that both mouths opened in a cathartic moan. Aemond held her passionately, pressed flush against him, and both his hands caged her in between him and the hard-faced wall. What started out slow and sensual grew out into tongue and teeth, gasps and promises lost in the decadent darkness.

At last, when they parted, Aemond drew her hands to his mouth, kissing them with pure, unadulterated love.

“Nyke ūndegon ao.” He answered her forgotten question.

He could see the end of his torment.

Translations:

"Qrimbrōzagon" = Curses/Fuck;

“Ivestragon issa konīr iksos daorun pirta rūsīr issa.” = Tell me you see nothing wrong with me;

“Ao issi vok.” = You are perfect;

“Aemond, ao issi vok. Nyke jaelagon ao could ūndegon aōla rȳ issa laesi.” = Aemond, you are perfect. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes;

“Nyke ūndegon ao.” = I see you.

Just You - Sukuna x Reader

Word Count: 492

Prompt: @kaizokuwritings 's 700 followers event Character: Sukuna Flower: Burnet; exclusive love

A/n: For the sake of me just 2 followers away from 100 followers I have decided (since idk what to do with the milestone) to start writing for JJK and start it off with the amazing Meli's 700 milestone event. Btw, this Sukuna is before he was defeated and just reduced to fingers basically. I hope all of you enjoy this and I apologize for really pushing the maximum word count ahahaha.

🖤❤️🖤

Sukuna, the king of curses, a man who reigned supreme over both humans and curses alike. A king such as him should have anything he ever wanted. That’s exactly what happened. Whenever he wanted sacrifices, the humans will give one of their own, whenever he wanted offerings, they will bring him this season’s crops, and when he wanted women? They would give him only the most beautiful.

These women were what pleasured Sukuna both day and night, whether it was under the covers or just to do his bidding. They were obedient humans he can make do whatever he wanted. Not to mention, the idea of having a harem stroked his ego.

But then you came along out of nowhere.

Just another measly toy, he thought to himself. Just another measly toy that caught his interest, sooner or later he’ll throw you out like he did to many other women right before you. And yet, the word measly soon became non-existent to him.

That interest soon became endearment, and not long after infatuation.

Out of everyone in the world, it was you who took the King of Curses’ heart. The one who he physically can not and will not be apart.

He sometimes pondered if you questioned your relationship with him, or how odd he began acting after just a few weeks you had arrived as a sacrifice to his temple.

How one by one, his women, his concubine, would disappear. How his demands became odder, from asking you to sit on his lap whilst he listens to the villagers from upon his throne, to sleeping in his bed and yet not bedding you without your consent.

Though he would push all those thoughts aside, he was the King of Curses, after all, he would do whatever he so pleased and no one would dare question him.

Yet he should’ve known from the start that the reason he fell so madly in love with you was because of your bravery. Sure, you feared him, but you still looked up at him like you were a champion. A champion worthy to be in his presence and not cower in fear.

That same bravery led to the question he dreaded the most.

“My lord Sukuna?” He hummed in reply, “May I ask why I get the special treatment?”

You felt his chest rumble from beneath your head, he was chuckling. It sounded slightly more strained than the ones he would usually do though.

“Only a human so idiotic would question my decisions.”

He saw you widened your eyes, and immediately look up at him. Only to relax back when you saw that he was teasing you, the fact was quite evident from the mischievous grin he held.

“You interest me in a way no other women can.” He didn’t want to say the words, “Does that satisfy you human?” But you knew from the way he treated you, how much he truly cared.

“Very much so, my lord.”

Imagine 01

Imagine falling asleep on Aemond's shoulder, in the secluded library of the Red Keep.

How his body stiffens immediately, as he finds himself holding in his own breath, hoping to not wake you up.

He can't move, he can't think, he swears on the Seven that he can't even blink. He just revels in the moment, and stays put, gawking at the wall of books in front of him. He swallows thickly and curses his loud heartbeat - he tries to relax his shoulder and take in the intimate moment the two of you seem to share.

And he stands like this, with his posture slightly crooked, for hours on end. His left arm had gone numb long ago, but he doesn't really care for it.

What he does allow himself to feel is the pang of regret that he can't glance at your softened features, with you having fallen asleep on his blind side.

At one point throughout the night, you will awaken. No matter the fact that he won't know what to tell you - Aemond just wishes the moment would never end.

"Nyke jurnegon ao, se ziry sȳngagon issa. Ziry sȳngagon issa skoros nyke jāhor gaomagon syt ao."

Tomorrow he will talk to his mother. Tomorrow he will ask for your hand.

Hey!

I have an idea that just wouldn’t leave my head and as you might already know I really really love your work, you have an amazing talent! This could be a scenerio or idk. So I was thinking about the lake scene in the triwizard tournament, where the person they take from Viktor is Hermione, and my idea is that the reader gets taken the same way after going to the Yule ball with Borya. And like Aemond just cant find the reader and is really worried (you can decide if the confession already happend or not). And as the first champion comes up with their person he realises whats going on and he is worried and maybe jealous and all that. Maybe something even goes bad like it did with Fleurs little sister or something and later just cute reunion and stuff. The whole thing is just Aemond being worried and maybe really affecionate after the whole thing. I dont know if you like this or not, But I would love to see this. Anyway, sorry about this being so long! I hope you are doing okay, and I will continue loving everything you write! ❤️

Siren Calls

(HotD Hogwarts AU)

A scenario of what your life could look like in the HotD Hogwarts AU - it can be read as a stand-alone, as a prequel to the "Yule Ball" series, or as a one-shot all together;

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: mentions of blood and open wounds - other than that, this is pure fluff!

Author's Note: Ramielll!! This!! Is!! Everything!! Thank you so much for sharing your idea with me - it blew my mind completely, and I absolutely love it! I hope you don't mind that I adjusted your ask a little and made the lake scene happen before the Yule Ball takes place;

Your support and kind words mean everything to me, and I thank you for them from the bottom of my heart 😭💗 I'm not really proud of this, but I hope you still enjoy this little piece!

Also, I wanted to take a moment to address an ask that I received from @jamespotterismydaddy regarding more HotD!Hogwarts AU headcanons - I will post them soon, as well! I didn't just ignore your request :") But I first have to work on the 3d part for the Yule Ball, since the following headcanons will have a lot of spoilers for the series;

Six wizards go underwater. Do all of them swim back up?

Quietness washed over the secluded corner of the library - the only palpable noise being the aggressive scribble of Aemond's black feather.

"Sounds like you got a good lead over there..." (Y/N) whispered to him, lost in concentration, and fully engrossed in her Transfiguration paper.

"Hmm." The male replied, fighting back the urge to stop his writing and meet her feeble form, clashing his eyes with hers.

"Psst," She giggled into his ear, "Go slower, why won't you? At this rate, you'll be done way before I am."

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a content smile. His hand came to a halt, and he finally glanced upon the girl's darkened orbs.

He drank in her distinctive features, reveling in her flushed cheeks and teasing smile. Fire surged within his veins, pumping both heart and loins alike. He tightened his fist below the table, cursing himself for the weakness she so easily caused him.

"Then you'd only have yourself to blame." He hushed right back, tickling her face with his warm breath.

The Gryffindor groaned and bit her cheek in grave frustration. Her eyes widened in feigned horror, and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

"No, no - do anything but leave me in the library all alone! My poor heart will not stand it!" She warned jokingly, though lacing her voice with a serious undertone.

Aemond let out a short breath, almost begrudgingly so, before he placed his big hand atop her head and affectionately patted her back in place.

"You know I'd never leave you to study alone." He remarked dryly, unamused. His words, although neutral and clear, faded in the light of his soft voice and downy eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'll stay here all night. You'll have to make more of an effort."

Another growl and a heartbeat later, (Y/N) pouted her lips and stuck out her tongue.

"Fine." She confirmed decidedly, "You'll see just how fast I can be. I bet you five Galleons I can finish even faster than you!"

The daring nature of Gryffindors shone through her, leaving Aemond both jaded and amused by it's wake. His chest filled with a fondness that scared him, but made him feel whole - complete - at the same time.

"Deal." Aemond piped back to her, leaning back on his chair smugly.

"Shake on it, then." The girl provoked him, with a wide smile etched on her face.

Both wizards brought their hand out in the greeting of the other, and soft fingers entwined with slim and long ones.

For a while, neither seemed to want to part. Together, they fit almost like a puzzle; their palms fell perfectly against the other - the Targaryen licked his lips tentatively, and turned his stare on their joined hands. If there was such a thing as humans made for a specific purpose, he was then sure his purpose was to love that girl.

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, and felt her cheeks turn into a shade of crimson. Before either could open their mouth to speak, the dull footsteps of another echoed through their quiet space.

"Ah, Miss (L/N), Mr Targaryen - Otto told me you might be here." The grave voice of Professor Daemon rung loudly atop their heads.

As quick as it came, their moment was gone, and both students reluctantly let go of their intimate bind.

"Professor Targaryen?" The girl inquired, surprised to see their DADA professor so late at night. She got up from her chair and made more room at their table for him, but Daemon only chuckled at her politeness, raising a hand to stop her in her tracks.

"Thank you, sweetling, but I won't be long. I've come to fetch you to Ott- Professor Hightower's office."

The two students exchanged a look of weariness, before Aemond rose up from his seat as well.

"Ah, not you, Mr Targaryen. Just Miss (L/N) will do just fine."

Aemond's mouth pressed into a tight line. His lilac eyes glared into his uncle's violet orbs, who only smirked at his nephiew's half-baked challenge.

"Professor, the hour is late. I should very much like to escort (Y/N) to my grandfather's office, as well."

Daemon fought back a bemused snicker. His eyebrows rose at his nephiew's suspense, and the man smirked slightly.

"Exactly, Aemond, the hour is late. Presumably, you both have classes tomorrow, is that correct? You could do with a good night's sleep."

Just like that, the conversation was over. Daemon placed his hand on the girl's back in a soothing manner, guiding her ahead of him with a firm nudge. Aemond, for a while, stood before them, his hand still gripping the dripping end of his elegant feather.

His uncle quirked his head to the side, signaling him to make way and, eventually, he did.

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, Aemond!" The girl assured her friend over her shoulder, throwing him one last dejected look.

Aemond was left alone with his thoughts, feeling more frustrated than ever. He slowly looked down at his fisted hand, and clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Shit."

The ink would leave stains on the inside of his palm.

Breakfast came. And breakfast passed.

Still, there was no trace of the girl in the whole wide hall.

Aemond's stomach felt like it was doing backflips. Seven times he looked over at the Gryffindors table. Seven times he closed his eyes in ire, having failed to spot the strands of her soft, familiar hair.

Perhaps she was in her Common Room.

Endless thoughts about what happened to her surged through his mind. Had his grandfather told her something that upset her? Did she catch a cold while staying in the airy office, with nothing on but her shirt and skirt?

"What are you thinking about?" A velvety voice rang in his ear.

"Hmm."

"If looks could kill, those Gryffindors would be six feet under." Alys laughed softly, brushing her hand with his.

Aemond sighed deeply, and moved his whole body towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Alys quirked up a brow and clicked her tongue in irritation - her emerald eyes ran over his broad back and lean shoulders; she bit her lip in anticipation, as her hands slowly extended to swallow him in a sensual back hug.

But a Gryffindor passed him, and the Targaryen took his chance. Wordlessly, he got up from his table, completely brushing Alys Rivers off, and reached out to him.

"Have you seen (Y/N) (L/N)?" He inquired dryly, sparing no time for any pleasantries.

"Uhh," The 4th year began, scratching his head in confusion, "Not since last night, no. She's probably still in her dorm or something, over-sleeping."

Aemond gave him a curt nod, releasing his tight grip over his forearm.

"Do you know who she shares a room with?" He pestered again. "Are any of the girls still here?"

"Yeah, Celeste. ... She's the blonde girl over there, at the edge of the table."

As the Gryffindor spoke, his hand crept up to point out the direction of (Y/N)'s bunk-mate. Aemond hummed in satisfaction, before brushing past the boy to march over to Celeste's table.

"You're welcome, by the way!" The brave 4th year yelled after him - though his attempt to grab his attention reached nought but deaf ears.

"You're Celeste, right?" Aemond's deep voice rumbled from inside his chest. He completely disregarded the Gryffindors' heated conversation, and instead fixed Celeste with his one good eye.

"In the flesh." She joked cautiously, leaning back in her seat to take a better look at the man before her. "You're Aemond Targaryen, right?" When he gave her a small nod, she smiled, fully satisfied with her discovery.

"Thought I recognised ya from somewhere!" She beamed at him, before taking on a more solemn air. "Can I help you with anything?"

"(Y/N)." Aemond accentuated with a quirked up brow, "She wasn't at breakfast today. Is she okay?"

At his words, Celeste scans the entirety of the cluttered hall, taken aback. She brings her blue eyes on Aemond's form again, and gives him a confused frown.

"Are you sure? When I woke up, her bed was all made up and stuff. She had to have been here."

As she spoke, the girl nibbled on her lower lip.

"Actually... I haven't really seen her since last night. She said she was going to the library to study. I waited for her but then, you know, I fell asleep."

Aemond felt his jaw set tightly. His one eyes went over to the Professors' table, searching frantically for Otto Hightower.

For once in his entire life, his grandfather wasn't there.

Right in the middle of their set assembly, Professor Daemon Targaryen shot him a provocative smirk.

Aemond snarled in retaliation, and climbed up the set of stairs to have a word with his eccentric uncle.

"Professor." He greeted tightly, before barking out in a single breath, "Last night, you took Miss (Y/N) (L/N) to my grandfather's office. Though it appears as if she hasn't yet returned. Since Professor Hightower isn't here himself, I wanted to inquire you on her whereabouts."

Although his sentence was perfectly weighed in both politeness and structure, there was no denying the malice he held in his undertone.

Daemon took great pleasure in it.

"Ah, yes, of course!" He exclaimed in a mocking manner, before taking on a more serious expression. "It may come as a surprise to you, Aemond, but I do not keep tabs on students and their current locations. I can assure you, though, she'll turn up eventually."

He dismissed his nephiew with a bored swish of his robes, bidding his goodbyes with a derisive smile.

"Perhaps you'll see her today at the triwizarding function." Daemon shrugged teasingly, earning a scornful look from both Aemond and his fellow colleagues.

The Slytherin wavered a moment, before he turned on his heel with a hum upon his lips.

His worry only increased with every passing hour he didn't spend in her company. Alys had latched onto him like a leech looking for her next meal, and his patience was running thinner by the minute.

Bets were placed on who will submerge from the waters of the Great Lake first - the noise of the crowd irked Aemond to no end, and her absence only intensified the feeling of dread that was setting inside his stomach.

Daemon had encouraged him to be here. Although his uncle was known to be cruel, he almost never graced people with false leads. Or so Aemond hoped.

His lilac gaze scanned through the floating towers, stopping at any student who resembled (Y/N) - at least barely.

The Targaryen let out a low growl, and decided to set his attention back onto the troubling waters.

He was worrying for nothing, wasn't he? Chances were, (Y/N) was hidden somewhere with her other friends, laughing and eating those awful flavoured jelly beans.

He had nothing to worry. Nothing at all.

And yet, jealousy swirled in his heart, pressing down his chest in a painful manner.

What were the chances that she was avoiding him? That she was sick of him following her around, and just wanted a break for the day?

His insecurity turned his attention back on Alys' blabbering.

"I bet that Borya would emerge first." She joyously told him, basking in the glow that his sharp eyes provided. "There's hardly any other champion more athletically inclined, and you need a lot of stamina to search through the whole lake for an hour."

Aemond's brow twitched at her words, and his whole disposition changed. "They have to search the lake?" He asked, unaware of the trail's circumstances.

Alya offered him a sly smile, and began playing with his robes' ends. She gestured for him to come closer, and leaned on over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"You didn't hear this from me, but apparently, all champions have to find something very dear to them deep beneath the lake's waters." She coyly told him, winking playfully as she sat down.

"At least, that's what Adrienne told me when I asked her last night."

Just as she finished her explanation, Oliver Hammer, Hogwarts' champion, emerged from the waters with his girlfriend, tightly joined at his hip.

A rattling thunder of congratulatory applauses could be heard from all around them. Alys pouted cutely, and turned her head to Aemond.

"Awh, that's just bad luck, isn't it? I just lost ten Galleons...!"

But Aemond had long switched his attention to Oliver Hammer. Something inside of him clicked at their sudden appearance, and the younger Targaryen made his way through the sea of people, to get a hold of the boy's damp robe.

"Congratulations, Hammer." He remaked loudly, as to quiet down the people next to them. Violet eyes were met with clashing brown hues, and Slytherin smiled at Slytherin.

"Thank you, Targaryen." He mirrored his formality with a small smirk, "You look tense. Something happened? Did you bet against me and are mad about my flawless victory?"

"Far from it." Aemond assured him, though his impenetrable expression never changed. "I have to ask you: did you spot (Y/N) down there, too?"

Oliver's eyes widened reflexively, and he jerked his head back a notch. Surprise and confusion battled for dominance, until the older boy finally spoke.

"Yeah - she's near the grindylows, about ten yards from here." He coughed into the back of his hand, and allowed the water droplets to pour down his soaked body. "How did you know?"

His question was left unanswered, though, as Aemond Targaryen made his way near the edge of water to glance within it.

"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it! Borya's assigned to her, and I saw him going there the second I left with Maya." Oliver yelled after him, and turned his attention back to his friends and brothers.

Not only was Aemond Targaryen worried sick about his friend, but he was now jealous, too.

If Alys' words rang true in his mind, then Borya cared an awful lot more about his girl than it was allowed to.

The green eyed monster ate away at his restless heart, and the Slytherin's knuckles turned white in their empty grip.

For a second, he wished he'd have written his name in the Goblet of Fire, for a chance to be the one to save her now.

Something was wrong.

Although Oliver had sworn he saw Borya approach (Y/N)'s hiding place the moment he left with Maya, the Durmstrang student was yet to come back up.

Even Adrienne Lavigne got to the bottom of the challenge, dragging her Ravenclaw friend out of the water, with a protective arm around her back.

Aemond felt like a caged dragon. Irritable and in a foul disposition. He glanced at his pocket watch once every two seconds, and walked from one end to the other on the robust ledge.

Where was that Durmstrang idiot...?

His silent prayers were answered when a clump of black hair emerged from the water. Borya had floated above, but there was no sight of the girl he was supposed to bring with him.

His hands reached up into the air, and he waved frantically.

"Help! Something is not right with the chains on (Y/N)'s legs! I can't free her!" He shouted in front of the shocked crowd. "Stones won't budge them, and I lost my wand in the sea of gillyweed!"

Aemond didn't need to hear anything else. With one swift movement, he discarded his robes on the floor and took out his aspen wand.

"Aqua Mensa." He swished it decidedly, and jumped into the water without a second thought.

The pain he felt was excruciating - the fins that grew in the stead of his fingers and legs felt worse than a thousand curses, but Aemond tried to pay it no mind.

Soon, his eye adapted to the depth of the water, and his new gills allowed him to breathe again.

"She's near the grindylows, about ten yards from here." He remembered Oliver say, and he started swimming in the direction he knew the girl must have been.

Surely enough, there she was, surrounded by nothing but algae. Aemond felt his heart stop beating, and a sudden pain carved his heart open at the sight of her seemingly endless sleep.

She looked beautiful. Breath-taking. With her eyes closed, she appeared at peace with herself and others; a small smile played upon her swollen lips, as if she knew a secret that she couldn't share with anyone.

Wasting no time, Aemond clutched his wand tightly, and cut through the iron shackles effortlessly, with just a flick of his wrist.

He engulfed the girl into a deep hug, swimming upwards to the rays of sunlight that peaked above both their heads.

And it could have all ended there, were it not for the grindylows that greatly opposed themselves at the sight of their swift departure. One by one, they rose up from their fields of algae, grabbing onto Aemond's feet, pulling him downwards and biting down on him harshly.

They ripped and tarnished, pulling tiny chunks of flesh from Aemond's body - still, the boy never once falthered. He kept the girl close to his chest, protecting her head and limbs with his own, in an attempt to defend her from the perturbing attacks.

Crimson blood pooled all the way up to where the students resided, and horrified gasps echoed all the way to the Professors' ears.

Aemond's hand reached for his wand, and, with the last of his forces, he hissed out the "Ascendio" spell, giving both bodies the last push necessary to reach to the surface.

Bewildered shouts surrounded them, all from a hundred different corners - while some were of a weird congratulatory nature, most seemed scared out of their minds.

Borya pushed through the crowd of students to glance at the two, and assure himself of both their safety. He gave Aemond a wordless bow, and an apologetic look to the girl still resting in his arms.

An army of Professors gathered around them. The school's nurse, Miss Margelle, let out a terrified gasp at the sight of the Targaryen boy, whose legs were in a most pivital position.

Despite there being no more need for it, Aemond never ceased to keep his arms around (Y/N), protecting her head from the hard, damp ledge and caressing her cheeks lightly.

"You're okay." He confirmed in a gentle whisper, wincing at his own pain. He brushed the hair from the girl's face, and rubbed small circles on the small of her back as she coughed out the excess water.

"A-Aemond...!" She uttered through an attempt to gasp for air, dazed and confused by his presence around her. "The Triwizarding Tournament, I --" She tried to explain, but stopped her wordless questions at the sight of the blood pouring at their feet.

"Aemond, you're bleeding out!!" She shrieked, aghast by the sight in front of her. She placed her hands atop Aemond's in an attempt to soothe and calm him, but the boy let out an airy chuckle.

"I'm fine. Hey, hey, look at me." He searched her gaze with his own, lining her jaw upwards. "I'm okay."

"H-How is this okay to you? You must be in so much pain!" She worriedly told him, feeling her lower lip quiver and eyes well up with tears at the sight of her friend's affliction.

She cast her eyes downwards again, and bit her lip in undoubted stress. Her hands fluttered close to his open wounds, but they stilled above them, unsure how to proceed.

While the two were busy bickering and conversing, Nurse Margelle kneeled down to Aemond's level, pulling out her trusting wand and summoning her first aid kit.

Sensing movement behind his back, the Slytherin shook his head, and placed a hand before his body. "Check (Y/N) first. The grindylows might not have bit her, but she still swallowed a lot of water."

"Are you insane?!" The Gryffindor chastised him with an affectionate look in her eyes. "You're bleeding out on the floor, and you're worried about me? Swallowing water?"

"Sweet water is toxic for the body. And you took more than just a mouthful." He asserted dryly, pushing her before his own needs once again.

"Shut up. Absolutely not."

"It's not up to you to decide." Aemond accentuated definitively.

"And thankfully, neither is it up to you, Mr Targaryen!" Nurse Margelle cut in sharply. Her hawk-like eyes assessed the spots in which Aemond likely took the most damage, and got to work right away. His damp shirt was discarded on the floor, and (Y/N) let out another breathless gasp.

"Merlin's beard, Aemond...!"

"I told you..." He began, before he closed his mouth back, in an attempt to hide a wince, "I feel fine. It doesn't hurt."

"Liar." She whispered back to him, whilst she leaned in to give his cheek an affectionate peck.

For a second, Aemond's cheeks matched the colour of the gnarly wounds on his legs and chest.

"T-Thank you. For coming to save me." She huffed out in a low breath, avoiding to meet his scorching eye.

"... Don't mention it."

If it meant getting kissed like that again, Aemond would gladly relive the day's events a thousand times over.